Nighttime visitor
by niagaraweasel
Summary: Just a little sillyness, really. A certain fanfiction writer gets a rather unexpected visitor. Helps to be familiar with cedricsowners virtual seasons, but not strictly necessary...


Nighttime visitor

**Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

**A/N: This is what comes from too many late night discussions…. **

On a dark and rainy night, an unsuspecting fanfiction writer – just for the sake of this little story let's call her cedricsowner – sat in front of her laptop. The only sounds to be heard were the soft clicks of the keys, as she diligently planned the next chapter of her ongoing saga concerning a certain ex-assassin and his team, when her concentration was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. Frowning in annoyance – she had just contemplating what kind of bodily harm she could inflict on her dashing hero next – she got up to answer it….. only to get the shock of her life, when she opened the door to find none other than said dashing hero standing before her, blue eyes flashing, the expression on his face blacker and more ominous than the pyroclastic cloud of a major volcanic eruption… oh yes, and only slightly less wet than a drowned cat.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" he yelled by way of greeting. Instinctively she took a step back, but quickly rallied again.

"Stop yelling, you'll wake up the whole neighbourhood!" she hissed, pulling him into the room and firmly shutting the door. "And what do you mean 'what do I think I'm doing'? I'm just continuing your storyline, since FOX doesn't seem to be interested in it any longer. Which is quite a shame really, since it's a very good one, with lots of potential."

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, she held up a hand to silence him. "Before you start explaining, let me at least get you a towel. You're dripping all over my floor." She disappeared through a second door and reappeared a moment later with a large fluffy pink towel. As she held it out to him, he noticed that it was embroidered all along the hemline with little bunnies. Reluctantly he accepted the towel and tried to dry off as much as possible. She took one look at his not exactly successful efforts and offered: "I could just throw your wet clothes into the dryer, if you want. Wouldn't take more than half an hour or so…." He looked at her as if she had just grown a second head.

_Hmmm… maybe that was a little too much. But then, it was worth a try,_ she thought, mentally shrugging her shoulders.

"Okay, where were we?" she picked up the conversation. "Oh yes, continuing the storyline…"

"And for that you have to put me through one destruct test after another?" he practically growled at her.

"Hey, in your line of work injuries are more or less a fact of life. And it certainly wasn't my idea to make you an ex-assassin-turned-special-kind-of-bodyguard, so don't dare blame me for that. I just expand a little on what's already there… or at least what should be there. And at least I have the girls take care of you – which is WAY more than the original script writers ever did!" she answered, determined not to let herself be intimidated.

"So far I've been bitten by a poisonous spider, got an arrow through my shoulder – which shoulder you then had me dislocate just a few episodes later – had my wrist broken by Guerrero, not to mention that gash on the leg from a hungry crocodile, just to name a few. And DON'T get me started on that little number with the seals in the Tokyo Zoo! You really want to tell me all that is necessary to tell a good story? What's next: hypothermia, broken ribs or maybe a rusty bear trap?"

_Don't give me any ideas_, she thought, mentally filing away his suggestions for possible future use, while putting on a show of regret and sympathy. With a friendly smile she patted his arm comfortingly.

"You know, if you put it like that, I guess I really have been going a little overboard with the injuries lately. How about this: no new injuries for the next couple of episodes." At the cautiously hopeful look on his face, her smile became a little less friendly and a little more evil. "I'll just send you undercover in a nudist camp. Or maybe something like the Chippendales? Would that be more to your liking?"

He found himself actually blushing. "You wouldn't…"

"Just watch me…." By now her smile had turned into a textbook evil grin – and a very big one at that.

"Next time you so much as think about another injury, I'll just send Guerrero to talk to you!"

"Oh yes, please do. I'm sure I could learn a thing or two from his vast experience. And I can always do with another victim. Now, as much as I enjoyed our little conversation, why don't you go back to wherever you came from and let me finish my story?"

"Oh no, you don't. I'm not going anywhere until you promise not to put me through any more stuff like that!"

Suddenly an idea flashed through her mind and she pretended to give in.

"Okay, if you insist…. Then let's put that in writing, shall we?" She started typing on her keyboard. He watched her, slightly suspicious that in the end she had given in so easily. Suddenly his phone rang. He answered it, for some reason not terribly surprised when he heard Harry's frantic, panicked voice at the other end of the line.

"Ehm… Chance… I hope I'm not interrupting anything terribly important, but I could REALLY use your help, like, right now! I have this little problem… okay, maybe not quite so little… with one of my clients…". Resignedly, he answered "On my way" and snapped the phone shut. With a murderous look at the woman still placidly typing away, he growled "We're not finished here", before he left, barely managing not to slam the door on his way out.

With a satisfied smile she re-read the last words she had been typing…"And Chance got to Harry just in time to save him from the angry crowd."


End file.
